


Watched

by K_K_TiBal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Future Character Death, I don't know if this technically counts as MCD but I'm tagging that just in case, M/M, hey everyone sometimes I write angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:55:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22265218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/K_K_TiBal/pseuds/K_K_TiBal
Summary: Dean was being watched.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 31
Kudos: 285
Collections: The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection





	Watched

**  
**Dean was being watched. **  
**

That was impossible, of course, because Sam and Eileen were out for the night on a date, Castiel was on his weekly therapeutic grocery shopping trip, and Dean was by himself in the bunker’s laundry room. 

And yet -

He paused after tossing a ball of wadded up flannel into the washer and looked over his shoulder into the empty space around him. 

Dean huffed out a breath and shook his head.

He was just getting paranoid. 

-

It was two in the morning and Dean was humming to himself in his boxers and robe as he cooked a spontaneous omelette that his stomach had demanded - he was but a servant to its nightly whims. 

And then he felt it again. 

Something was watching him.

Dean froze when the sensation washed over him, familiar in a foreign way but not familiar enough to bring him any kind of comfort. 

In one smooth motion that years of hunting had ingrained in him, Dean grabbed a knife from his fancy knife block that he’d splurged on during a different late night and whipped around, only catching a glimpse of a tan trench coat as it left the door frame. 

Letting out a relieved breath, Dean poked his head out the door and frowned when the only thing that greeted him was a dark hallway. 

“Cas?” He called, lowering his knife. 

The hallway didn’t answer. 

-

“So, are you doing like a voyeurism thing now, or what?”

Castiel looked up from the fantasy novel he’d been reading, glanced both to his left and right like there was a possibility that Dean could possibly be talking to someone else in the middle of the bunker’s library where only the two of them had been for the past couple of hours. 

“What?” 

“You heard me,” Dean gestured towards him with a book in one hand, “It’s fucking creepy, dude. You have my full permission to stare longingly at this mug whenever you want but you’re gonna get another knife in the chest if you keep up trying to be sneaky about it. I’ve got hunter instincts, man.” 

Castiel blinked. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He said after a moment’s pause. 

“I’ve seen you.” Dean said with an eye-roll. “The jig is up.”

“Dean, I genuinely don’t know what you’re referring to.” Castiel said with a frown. “I’ve never spied on you.”

Castiel seemed to take a moment to reevaluate something. 

“In recent years.” He amended.

“Ha!”

“ _Dean_ -”

“Alright, well, if it’s not you, who is it?”

Castiel shrugged his shoulders once. 

“I haven’t detected anyone entering the bunker that isn’t supposed to be here.” Castiel said, his eyes flicking back down to his reading. “Maybe you have a ghost.” 

Dean squinted at Castiel, looking for any sign that he was being messed with, and sat back down in his chair.

“Yeah. Maybe.”

-

The cashiers in the liquor store nearest to the bunker knew Dean by name - in fact they’d picked it up easily in the first month he and Sam had moved in. 

Dean gestured towards the empty row of booze that held his favorite whiskey as he groaned loudly and dramatically.

“Nathalie! Who cleaned you out?”

His favorite of the cashiers leaned over from the next aisle and raised an eyebrow. 

“You did, Dean. Like four days ago. We only restock once a week.” 

Dean made another loud groaning sound. 

“I’m my own worst enemy.”

Nathalie began to blow a large bubble with gum the same bright color of her hair and stared at him as it popped. 

“Aren’t we all.”

She ducked back down into the aisle. 

Dean grumbled some more as he grabbed some of his less-than-favorable second choices of whiskey and set the last bottle into his cart just as the hair on the back of his neck began to stand on end. 

Again. 

He didn’t move, just stared down at the final bottle as he tried to focus on the corners of his vision. 

Tan coat, dark hair, blue tie. 

Dean let out a breath and turned to confront him, but the figure had ducked back out of view. 

Shopping cart abandoned, Dean strode forward quickly, looking down the aisle, ready to catch him red-handed, but only saw Nathalie taking stock. 

“Hey, did you see - uh -”

“That guy you’re with sometimes?” Nathalie, jerked a thumb behind herself. “Yeah, he went -” 

She frowned as she glanced in the direction she’d pointed out. 

“Well he _was_ there.” 

And now there was nothing. 

-

“Dean, I am _telling you_. I don’t know what it is you’re seeing but it’s _not_ me.” Castiel set the bags down on the kitchen table as he began putting the food he’d just purchased into the fridge. 

“Look, if you’re trying to get me back for beating you at Uno this is a really fucking weird way -”

“ _It’s not me._ I don’t know how many times I have to say it.”

Dean threw his hands up in the air in exasperation. 

“Then what’s _fucking_ happening? Am I going _nuts_ in my old age?”

“You’re in your forties.”

“In hunter-years I’m decrepit.”

Castiel set the milk on the table with a little bit more force than Dean thought was necessary. 

“Dean. Listen to me. I have no need to spy on you. I get to look at you all I want, whenever I want, and I also gain the benefit of having you look back.” For a moment, Castiel almost looked fond. “I’m very lucky to have that in life, and it’s something I don’t take for granted. So, whatever is happening to you, it’s not -”

Castiel stopped mid-sentence and Dean felt Castiel’s gaze go slack, like he was no longer staring at him, but somehow staring through him. 

“What?” Dean asked. 

“Uh,” Castiel shook his head, coming back to himself, “Nothing. I just… had a thought.”

Dean waited. 

“Care to share with the class?”

“You should. . . try talking. . . to whatever it is.” Castiel said finally, turning to place the milk in the fridge. “You never know.”

“Talking to it.”

Castiel nodded.

“I swear to god, if this some sort of prank -” 

Castiel turned around, and Dean shut up.

That wasn’t a look he saw on Castiel often. 

“Come on. Help me put everything else away.”

-

The feeling came again at night. 

Dean rubbed at his eyes as he walked down the hallway, his bladder now blissfully emptier than it had been when he’d been woken up by it. 

The hair on his neck began to prickle as he shuffled past doorways and connecting halls in his slippers and robe, and out of the corner of one eye he saw the figure. 

Standing in the hallway to his right. 

Dean stopped. 

“Don’t go.” He said, not daring to turn his head yet. 

The figure shifted ever so slightly, but didn’t completely disappear.

“I know you’ve been watching me.” Dean’s voice was just above a whisper. “You’ve been doing it a lot. What do you want?” 

The figure didn’t move. 

Dean took a risk, turned his head, and there, in the middle of the hallway, was Castiel. 

“You said -” Dean started, then stopped himself as he looked at the figure in front of him. 

It wasn’t Castiel. 

Not really. 

He had the same clothes, the same vessel, the same everything - but this was not a Castiel that Dean was familiar with. He held himself like he was either being weighed down by the weight of the sky or was slowly being coaxed towards whatever lay beneath the surface of the earth. Maybe both. 

His eyes were the most off-putting. 

They were sunken and dark, staring back at him with equal parts joy and misery all tied up together in a neat little bow of fear. 

It was Castiel, but it wasn’t Castiel. 

It reminded him of a Castiel he’d seen only once before.

“Dean.” 

The voice cracked - like a dam that was on the verge of collapse.

“Cas -” Dean swallowed, trying to put this all together in his head. 

The Castiel in front of him sagged visibly, and half a sob caught in his throat as he took a step backward. 

“I’m sorry -” Castiel stammered, “I shouldn’t have come -”

“Wait.” Dean took a step forward to make up what he’d lost. “Cas.”

Castiel stood miserably still. 

“. . . When are you from?” 

Castiel said nothing for a long few moments, just stood silently and stared down at the floor. 

When he looked up again, he’d managed to regain a small semblance of composure.

“Two thousand and ninety four.” He said softly.

Dean let out a breath that was half out of disbelief. 

“Wow.” He scratched at the back of his head. “And uh... how is it?”

More silence. 

“I miss you.” Castiel whispered, and whatever composure he’d managed to regain was lost again as the dam finally broke. “I miss you _so much_ , Dean. I can’t - I’m sorry, I can’t _do this_ -” 

“Hey, hey,” Dean stepped forward when Castiel started to hyperventilate - something he hadn’t been aware could even happen to an angel - “Cas. _Hey_ , I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Yes, you are.” Castiel managed, and Dean’s suspicions were confirmed. 

Of course they were - he’d probably been long dead.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I know I promised, but I miss you. I had to - I had to see you again -”

“Cas. . .” Dean said, his heart wrenching at the sight of him like this. “Look, don’t - don’t fucking do this to yourself. Please. Time jumps take so much out of you and you’ve been doing this a lot. You’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“I know.” Castiel reached a hand out slowly, eyes on Dean’s own hand. “I know.”

It took everything Dean had to pull back. 

“What’s dead should stay dead.” Dean said, trying to sound firm. “You _know_ that.”

Castiel turned his gaze back up to Dean - and for the first time - he looked soft.

“You and I were always an exception to the rule.” 

Dean couldn’t argue that, instead, he ignored the alarms blaring in his head as he stepped forward and pulled Castiel into a hug, and Castiel clung to him like a lifeline, breathing into his neck and gripping at his robe. 

“I love you,” Dean said, and felt Castiel’s grip tighten, “But you’ve gotta stop doing this to yourself. If Sam and I. . . if we aren’t around, then humanity needs you, man. You’ve gotta be there for them.”

He felt Castiel nod into his neck and his grip began to weaken. 

He let go. 

“Alright.” Castiel said, voice lower and huskier than usual. “Thank you... Dean. For indulging my selfishness.”

“S’not selfish.” Dean swallowed. “And I’m - I’m so sorry. For what it’s worth I - he - never wanted to leave you. Never in a million years.”

Castiel’s hand lingered in Dean’s, and then it fell away. 

“I know. I know _all_ of this. I didn’t see anything that I didn’t already know I just -” Castiel swallowed. “I just missed you.”

Castiel took a breath and wiped at his eyes, like he was already distancing himself from the Dean in front of him. 

“I won’t bother you anymore.”

“Cas -” 

Castiel looked up. 

“. . . Get a cat.” Dean said with a shrug. “Smelly, dirty, bitey, knocks things over - it’ll be basically the same thing. And you’ll have a cat.” 

A small smile twitched at the corner of Castiel’s mouth. 

“Hold him tight for me.” Castiel said.

And the hallway was empty again. 

-

Dean stepped back into the bedroom and climbed into bed, curling himself around Castiel and pressed his forehead against his neck.

“A long bathroom break.” Castiel murmured, entwining his fingers with Dean’s. “Everything alright?”

Dean only hummed in affirmation, and inhaled deeply. 

“You know. . . maybe we should get a cat.”

Castiel shifted to crane his neck at Dean. 

“A cat?”

“Yeah.”

“That must have been quite a visit to the bathroom.”

“Yeah.” 

Dean held him tight.


End file.
